Backwoods Barbie
by M. Jamil
Summary: Divorce is always a possibility. Even for a country star.
1. Chapter 1

**Robby Ray's P.O.V.**

_I'm just a backwoods Barbie in a push-up bra and heels  
Might look artificial but where it counts, I'm real  
And I'm dolled up and hopin' for a chance to prove my worth  
And even backwoods Barbie's get their feelings hurt_

_I'm just a backwoods Barbie, too much makeup, too much hair  
Don't be fooled by thinkin' that the goods are not all there  
Yes, I can see where I could be misjudged upon first glance  
But even backwoods Barbie's deserve a second chance_

_I'm just a backwoods Barbie askin' for a chance  
just a backwoods Barbie_

I heard Dolly's voice break as she finished singing her latest hit, the vibration of the guitar strings fading into the crepuscular night sky. As she leaned the instrument against the balustrade and pulled her knees up to her chest, her frame began to shake violently, uncontrollable sobs escaping her lips.

I hurriedly paced forward, placing a hand on the small of her back.

"Dolly, what's wrong?" I asked, my voice layered with concern.

I picked her up effortlessly as I sat down on the chair she was once on. I cradled her in my arms as her trembling fingers grasped the collar of my shirt. I rubbed her back reassuringly, feeling as though I was her younger brother trying to make things better again. I often felt this obligation over Dolly.

"It's over," she choked quietly, looking up at me through glistening eyes.

"What is?" I asked.

"We're divorced Robby," came her weak reply. "Not one hour ago did my husband call me and let me know in a stone cold voice that our divorce was official. That's the real reason why I'm here. He kicked me out of our old house and I had nowhere else to go."

"I knew something was off the second you stepped through the front door. What's been going on with you two?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice cracking once more, her lower lip quivering. I held her a little tighter. I wanted to make sure she knew she was loved by her family no matter what the bastard had done to her. "We've just been arguing for so long. I remember that one night it was perfect, then the next it was a disaster. I remember a punch being thrown at my stomach and a door being slammed in my face. Then a phone call to make it all even more real than it could ever get. I just don't understand, Robby. He said he didn't want me anymore because I was too concerned with my looks; that I was always getting plastic surgery, facelifts and all sorts of other things over the years, that I just wasn't real anymore. The way I see it, these surgeries and facelifts _are_ me. And even if I look shallow, I'm not like that on the inside... Am I?" She took a short breath to steady herself. "He said that some people thought I acted the way I looked, and I mean, they hadn't even met me. Then he started picking little fights about this and that. And that's what's brought me here."

"I am so sorry to hear that, Dolly," I replied, squeezing her arm. "But if he left you because of what other people said, he wasn't really all that good now, was he? I understand you two had been married for a long time, but if he can't see the real beauty in his wife, he's not worth your love."


	2. Chapter 2

**Miley's P.O.V.**

As I peered through the crack of my door, I saw my father hugging Aunt Dolly close to his side as they walked up the staircase together.

"Now you get a good night's sleep, you understand?" said Daddy once they had reached the landing.

My Godmother nodded, leaning on the doorframe of the guestroom for support.

Daddy kissed her forehead. "Don't you worry about a thing, Dolly. You're more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you need."

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, so low that I could barely hear.

"No problem. Good night," and with that, my father made his way down the hall to his bedroom.

I saw Aunt Dolly's little wince before she headed into the spare room provided for her.

I shut my door, blocking out the light of the hall. I sat down on my bed, glaring sadly at the night table beside me. I sighed as I turned on the lamp.

I had heard everything she and Daddy had said out on the deck earlier. I had been sitting out on my balcony, writing a song when I was interrupted by the melody of a guitar and the unstable voice of my favourite country singer. I was so surprised to hear what Aunt Dolly had said to my Daddy. I had heard her cellphone ring, I'd rushed out into the hall after hearing her attempt to muffle her sobs, but she had already been near the bottom of the stairs, my father quicker than I. I decided it would be best to let her talk it out with an adult first, knowing she wouldn't be the most comfortable telling her troubles to a sixteen-year-old.

. . .

"Hey Daddy, is everything okay with Aunt Dolly?"I asked, as I came down for breakfast the next morning.

"Well, she's still not down and she's usually up early, if that tells you anything."

I frowned.

Daddy placed a couple of fried eggs on my plate. I just stared at them and sighed. I slowly picked up my fork and began to eat.

. . .

It was noon and there was still no sign of Aunt Dolly. I decided to head upstairs and check up on her.

I knocked lightly.

No response.

I knocked again, a little harder this time. "Aunt Dolly?" I asked.

Still nothing.

I opened the door ever so slightly to peer inside. I was surprised at the sight presented before my eyes.

I pushed the door further to reveal the room filled with sheet music and lyrics scattered across the floor, a black and pink Daisyrock guitar lying in the middle of the room, and a terrible looking Dolly Parton curled up on the bed.

"Hey," I said softly as I made my way across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You look like you haven't gotten much sleep," I noted the dark rings around her eyes, though I didn't comment on the state the insides were in: red and puffy.

"Miley, I really don't feel like talking," she said quietly.

"Okay. But if something's bothering you, be sure to let either myself or Daddy know."

She shrugged.

I hugged her tightly. "Do you want anything to eat? It's just about time for lunch."

"No thank you."

"Alright."


	3. Chapter 3

**Robby Ray's P.O.V.**

"Hey," I heard her small voice come from behind me.

I turned to face the country singer I had been longing to see all day.

"Feeling any better?" I asked, wiping my hands on a dishtowel and making my way toward her.

She shook her head, leaning against the wall. "Not much."

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to sit on the couch.

"What've you been up to all day? I've been worried sick about you, but Miley told me not to disturb you."

She smiled slightly at this. "She's a real angel, isn't she?"

I nodded. "But that doesn't give me an answer, Dolly."

She sighed as she looked away.

I put a finger under her chin and turned her to face me.

"Dolly," I said sternly. "You were there for me when I needed advice on how to ask Loretta out, and I want you to know that I'm here for you in your time of need."

She swallowed. "I was writing songs."

"That's not everything."

"And crying. A lot. I didn't get any sleep."

I wasn't sure how to comfort her. This was more of a challenge than I had thought. We had both lost lovers, but it was Loretta who had been the sensitive soul. Not I.

I was saved as the front door flung open and in stepped my mother.

"Why, what on earth is Blondie doing here?" came her expected outburst. "It's almost your anniversary, I thought you'd be smooching with your husband, little Rufus getting on both your nerves because he hadn't been fed in days," she chuckled.

I saw Dolly try to hold back a wince in my peripheral.

"Ma," I said quietly. "Now I know you two have had your fair share of arguments, but couldn't you try to be a little nicer?"

"Not after what I heard playing on my car radio."

"What'd you hear?" Dolly asked, seeming calm and collected for a moment.

"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, JOLENE. I'm begging of you, please don't take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, JOLENE. Please don't take him just because you can," Ruthie burst into a mockery of the superstar. "Now I don't know why _you_ would ever write a song like that, let alone sing one. I mean, for Heaven's sake, _you're_ the one who stole Elvis from me."

Probably recalling the memories of another bad breakup, and a lifetime feud with Ruthie Ray, Dolly tightly shut her eyes, clenching the back of the sofa in both hands, trying to block the tears from falling.

"Oh, now why are you about to cry? You get everything you want, and—"

"As the song goes, Ruthie, some people don't know love from shinola!" Dolly practically screamed as she rose to her feet. "It's bad enough having your husband divorce you after a 40-year marriage, let alone somebody just barging in here and bringing up yet another horrible cognizance."

I couldn't believe my mother could actually laugh at someone else's pain as she chuckled. "So he finally broke up with you, did he? It's about time. I mean, I saw his loss of interest a few years ago."

Dolly plopped down on the couch, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, sobs attempting to be muffled. "Years?"

"That's right, honey. Years."

"Ma, do you enjoy putting Dolly through this much pain?"

"Son, how do you know what she's going through isn't deserved?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Miley's P.O.V.**

As soon as I heard the signature sound of the dying engine of Mamaw's car pull up into our driveway, I quickly rushed out to my balcony to wave. But before I was able to announce my presence as I stood on the platform behind the couch, I recalled the events of the night I won_ The International Music Award's Female Artist of The Year _due to the argument that had started up the second my grandmother walked through the entrance of our Malibu beach-house.

"Well, I hate to say this, Ma, but that is just preposterous; Dolly's the nicest person I know," I heard Daddy defend.

"Oh, is that what the King used to say, did he now?" I could tell this was meant to be said under her breath. "Well, Dolly, do you know what state your husband came home in the night he kicked you out?"

Dolly looked confused. "He told me he had been home all day."

Mamaw smirked. "Aw, how adorable. You were so caught up in that little celebrity life of yours you got goin' there that you forgot to keep an eye on him!"

Dolly sighed. "Come on, Ruthie, bring out the worst. It's not like I haven't heard enough already, or that you'll actually stop if I ask you to."

"Okay!" Daddy said, clapping his hands together. "Who wants pie?"

Jogging over to the kitchen, he realized neither of the ladies were going to follow suit anytime soon.

"Go on," Dolly urged. "I'd rather have an explanation as to why I ended up here than just some old excuse of, 'you're not real anymore' after forty years of marriage," she deepened her voice as she mocked, presumably, her husband's words.

Daddy sighed as he sat down on a kitchen stool to monitor the rest of the argument. As for me, I sat down on the steps, putting my elbows on my knees and lifting a hand to my chin. Who knew how long this would carry on?

"You know that brunette chick, Dorothy?" I was confused by Mamaw's question.

"Oh, you mean his business partner?" Dolly seemed to understand. "What about her?" She gulped as soon as she asked the question, probably not wanting to find out the answer.

"Well, I was just comin' over to your house to discuss that offer you gave me about a new car, and—"

"And you haven't heard of a telephone?" Dolly joked.

"You know, if you analyze this situation, I'm really doing you a favour, so shut up."

I could feel Aunt Dolly's eye roll.

"As I was saying, I rang your doorbell to have Carl answer the door," This was the first time either one of them had mentioned his name. I saw Aunt Dolly grimace a little. "A strong whiff of alcohol came from his breath when he spoke, and when I asked him if you were home, he said he hadn't seen you that morning when he woke up. And do you know what I saw after that?"

Dolly shook her head.

"I heard giggling coming from the background and that Dorothy what's-her-face emerged from your bedroom in a bathrobe—"

Dolly gasped. Daddy and I both got up at the same time, "That's enough!" We shouted simultaneously.


End file.
